The Heartbroken Cowboy (The Cowboys of Whisper, Colorado Book 2)

by Melissa Keir

  Johnson slapped the worn cowboy hat on his head. “I’ve never needed to chase a woman in my life. Why am I bothering now?” he grumbled and slammed the door of his truck shut before he started the engine. His bad mood hampered his driving. Johnson must have hit every pothole and bump in the road on his way into town, further aggravating his mood. After parking on Main Street, he climbed from the cab and headed straight for the restaurant. Without regard for who was in his way, he nearly ran down the kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Alt, her bag of books and art supplies hanging from her shoulder, on her morning stroll to the school building. He slowed and tipped his hat then held it in his grip. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Alt. I’m in a hurry this morning.”

  A smile filled her face. “Good morning, Mr. O’Neill. What a fine morning. I saw you at the wedding.” She placed her hand on his arm. “You looked very handsome and did a fine job as Jake’s best man.”

  His cheeks warmed. “I’d love to talk, Mrs. Alt, but I need to grab some grub from the café.”

  He glanced down yet her grip remained firm. “We didn’t get a chance to chat. I noticed you were spending a lot of time with our lovely Realtor, Ms. Donahue. She’s such a nice woman. She’s donated money to the school each year. It’s a shame about her husband.”

  Mrs. Alt’s head tilted as her smile turned to a frown. He didn’t know anything about Debra’s husband, let alone that she’d had one. He wanted nothing more than to shake the town’s teacher for answers, but his mom had taught him better. Settling his hand on hers, he inquired, “I’m not aware of the man. What happened?”

  “Poor man was killed in a drunk-driving accident. Happened when they’d only been married a year. She’s been alone ever since.”

  At the shake of her head, he wished he hadn’t asked. Not only had he upset the nice young lady, but he was convinced he’d blown his chance at the only woman who’d tempted him more than the bottle. Sure this must have been the reason she’d been avoiding him, he was more determined than ever to clear the air with her. “Would you look at the time?” Seeking an exit, Johnson pulled the old ploy. “You’re going to be late for your students. I’ve kept you long enough.” He removed her hand and waved her off. “Good-bye. I’m sure I’ll see you around town.”

  “Oh no! I can’t be late!” Mrs. Alt sprinted toward the school.

  Johnson stuffed his hat back on his head and advanced toward Café French with a wish in his heart. “Please let her be there.”

  ***

  Debra strode into Café French. The aromas of coffee and pastries tantalized her nose, waking her up. “Hi, Charley. Did you have a nice time at the wedding last Saturday?” She waved at the young college student working behind the counter.

  “Hello, Ms. Donahue. The wedding was beautiful. Did you have a good time? Should I get you the usual?” Laughter shone in Charley’s sparkling green eyes, not at all muted by her glasses.

  “Yes, please. You know how much I love Angela’s heavenly cherry scones.” Debra patted her hips then strolled toward a small café table near the window and took a seat.

  She needed that extra dose of sugar, after having nightmares about last Saturday. She’d woken Sunday morning still wearing her black dress, the wedding reception a fog. Images of stars and strong arms had filled her sleep, keeping her hot and bothered.

  A serious headache threatened her sanity, having kept her in a darkened room all the previous day. Even the silence of the apartment hadn’t soothed her pounding head and she’d lost her phone somewhere—she’d have to find time to replace it immediately. She’d no doubt missed calls from clients while recovering from…whatever went on Saturday night.

  She drew her compact out of her purse and gazed at her reflection. There were dark circles under her eyes and a frown marred her face. She rubbed her forehead, hoping her head would fall off or at least stop hurting.

  Charley brought over a tall cup of white-chocolate mocha and a scone in a small bag. “Here, Ms. Donahue. Anything else you need?”

  “Since I’m the only one here, why don’t you sit? I’d love some company.” Debra picked up the cup and blew lightly on it then took a sip. “Yum. This will take care of the headache I woke with.”

  “Let me get the crumbs off the table first.” Charley ran a rag over the table. “I noticed you dancing with a man at the wedding reception. I tried but didn’t get a good glimpse at him. You appeared to be having fun. I wish I had found someone to dance with. However, wasn’t Miss Angela’s ceremony simply breathtaking?”

  Debra nodded. “I cried when Taylor spoke. She’d been through so much. It was nice to see her happy.” She smiled at her memories of the beautiful service. “It was an exciting night. I remember dancing, but not too much after that. The whiskey went right to my head. I’m not even sure why I drank. I’ve not had a drop of booze since Steve’s death. When I woke up the next morning, I thought I’d dreamt the whole thing.”

  Debra recalled the tall handsome cowboy who’d tempted her. She remembered obtaining the fire whiskey. Everything was fuzzy after her first drink of that evil concoction. What’d happened? Clouded memories of dancing, stars, and heated kisses battered around in her throbbing skull. She took another sip of the mocha. As it settled in her stomach, she took a deep breath.

  “Wait here.” Charley disappeared into the back of the shop and returned a few minutes later. “Here’s some pain meds.”

  Debra grabbed at the three white pills like a lifeline. “Thanks. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself. I don’t remember much after drinking the fire whiskey. That stuff is dangerous.” Throwing back her head, she swallowed the pills with some coffee.

  Just then, the bell on the door rang as the door opened and a tall man wearing jeans and a cowboy hat strode determinedly toward the counter. Charley glanced over. “I’m sorry you have a headache. I hope the meds help. I’m not a drinker. I’d better help this customer.” Charley and Debra stood up. “It’s been nice talking to you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you for the meds. I’m just going to take this to go. See you tomorrow.” As Charley headed for the counter, Debra’s gaze traveled up the length of the man standing there, giving his order. He certainly is sexy. I love the way those jeans fit his butt. The sound of his deep voice shivered down her spine. Something about him was familiar. How do I know him? Debra didn’t have time to daydream about a cowboy. A sigh fell from her lips. She had houses to sell. Grabbing her coffee, food, and purse, she headed out the door.

  ***

  “Hello, Miss Charley. Nice to see you again.” Johnson removed his hat and gave the young college student a tentative smile.

  “Hi, Mr. O’Neill. We have a special on ice-blended white-chocolate mochas today. Miss French…urm…I mean Mrs. Kyncade made some special banana bread, too. What can I get you?”

  “I’ll take a large coffee black, can’t stand those frou-frou coffees.” He grimaced at the thought. “Two slices of banana bread, though, also to go.”

  “Sure. Let me get them for you.”

  As she packaged his order, Johnson glanced around the café and thought about the first time he’d been in here. When Angela French began dating his friend, Jake, he hadn’t been very kind to her. He thought she’d been using the rancher, or even that Jake was swayed by a pretty face. But after everything the two of them had gone through, he knew they were a perfect couple. Angela’s daughter, Taylor, needed Jake and the horses of The Heartsong Ranch to get over the trauma of her attack. Taylor has a special place in my heart. I admire her for overcoming her demons. Maybe she can teach me how to beat mine.

  Charley returned with a white bag and a large Styrofoam cup. “Here’s your order. Be careful. The coffee is hot. Did you have a good time at the wedding?”

  “Thanks, Charley.” His stomach twinged. “It was…memorable.”

  Her face lit up. “It was the first wedding I’ve been to. The whole shebang was so romantic, from the ceremony in the barn to the beautiful reception at the Rancher’s
Club. I hope I find a love like Mr. Jake and Ms. Angela’s someday. I saw Ms. Donahue dancing with a man, too, laughing and enjoying the night. She was just here, in fact. Maybe she’s found her special someone. Maybe there’s hope for me.”

  Like a dog scenting a bone, Johnson’s head lifted at the sound of Debra’s name. “De…Ms. Donahue was here? I’ve…err…been meaning to talk to her about a new place. Now that Jake’s got Angela and Taylor living with him, they don’t need an old coot like me hanging around.”

  “I believe she mentioned going to her office. You should be able to catch her there.”

  Johnson grabbed the coffee and small white paper bag and headed toward the door. “Thanks, Charley. I’ll see you tomorrow for more of the same.” He lit out of there like a man on fire, calling over his shoulder, “I might be able to catch her.”

  Johnson scanned the sidewalk both ways for the curvy blonde he’d met at the wedding. “Where did she go?” Parked farther along the street, a black minivan caught his gaze. Debra’s image stared back at him from the back window. He slapped his hat on his head and marched north toward the van and her office.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Debra sat at her desk in front of her computer. The delicious aroma of coffee filled her nose as she typed up her latest listing—a three-bedroom farmhouse with fifty acres of land abutting The Heartsong Ranch. “A perfect home for a growing family or someone wanting to have a small farm.” When the bell tinkled above the office door, Debra glanced up to see the cowboy from the café enter.

  She stood and approached him. Must be my lucky day. He’s so easy on the eyes. “Good morning. Welcome to Whisper Ranch Realty. How can I help you?”

  He removed his hat and held it in his grip. “Urm…I’m Johnson O’Neill. I’ve been searching for you….”

  Debra raised her brow and smiled. “Mr. O’Neill, I’ve heard wonderful things about you from Angela and Jake. You seem very familiar. Have we met before?”

  “You don’t remember?” A frown marred the cowboy’s features, but it couldn’t change how handsome he was. “I’m Jake’s foreman and friend. I work with him. We met at their wedding.”

  The deep timber of his voice sent chills surging up her spine. She took a deep breath. Images of Johnson wearing a tux and cowboy boots flashed through her mind. His full lips curved, and warmth filled her belly. What is it about him? Why am I feeling this way?

  “Were you wearing a tux with cowboy boots?”

  A sigh escaped his lips and his smile lit his face. “Yes. We danced. You really don’t remember.” He tilted her chin up. “I suppose that’s why you never called; I plugged my number into your phone.”

  The memory of his strong arms pulling her into his embrace echoed through her body, sending tingles down to her toes. Why does the taste of cinnamon fill my mouth when I think of him? “I lost my phone that night.”

  Relief passed over his face. “That explains it. Since you don’t remember me or our dance, will you let me take you out again?” He hummed and maneuvered her around her desk in a slow two-step.

  “I’ve not been on a date in years.” Is my voice really that breathless?

  “Now that’s not true. What would you call what we were doing at the wedding?” Again he smiled and the tingles returned.

  “I guess I can’t argue with you, since I don’t remember it.”

  “What do ya say?”

  Fear and doubt entered her mind. Should she? Debra withdrew slowly out of his embrace. She tilted her head down and glanced at the man in front of her through her lashes. The checkered flannel shirt accentuated his broad shoulders. A lock of silver hair fell over his forehead, contributing to his impish appearance. He probably laughs easily. Maybe he can fill in the holes of that night. Lifting her face, she looked him in the eyes. “I’ll do it…if you can answer one question.” He nodded. “Why do I recall the taste of cinnamon? Did Angela have a special dessert made?”

  “Fire whiskey. You confiscated the bottle from the bartender. The alcohol had a kick, and we finished the bottle.”

  Debra’s body shook. Alcohol, booze, liquor. Memories of her husband’s broken body filled her mind. She felt faint and braced her palm on the wall next to her. “I’m sorry. I can’t go out with you.” Her words spilled from her lips like a waterspout. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me. I have to get back to work.”

  With those final words, she turned and fled to the bathroom in her office.

  ***

  Johnson slammed the truck cab door. What the hell happened back there? She was all ready to go out with me, then…bam! She closed off. He pounded the steering wheel. “Mention the alcohol, and she’s gone. Dumbass. Her husband died.”

  Traveling to Jake’s ranch, he passed the Cotton Gin, the local bar. I need a drink. Just to wet my lips. Jerking the truck into park, he hopped out. The faded, cracked wooden door had seen better days. Inside, darkness and the smell of stale beer greeted him.

  He perched on the nearest barstool and glanced around the room. Scarred tables, broken chairs, and five televisions accommodated seven local cowboys and farmers from the area. This used to be his home away from home, until he’d made a choice. The Heartsong Ranch had become his refuge.

  “Hey, Jeannie,” he called out to the scantily dressed bartender. “How’s things?”

  “Hi, Johnson. Haven’t seen you in ages. Whatcha doing here at this time? Shouldn’t you be at Jake’s?” The young brunette greeted him. He’d known her since she was in grade school.

  “Yeah. Heading there. Needed a drink.”

  Jeannie grabbed a glass and filled it with ice. Brown liquid flowed. The smell tantalized his nostrils, causing his mouth to water. She slid the glass toward him. “Here you go, stud.” She winked.

  Johnson grabbed it and lifted it to his lips. Guzzling the cola, he felt refreshed. “Thanks, doll. How’s your dad?”

  “He’s in the back.” She turned and yelled, “Dad, Johnson’s here.”

  A man stooped with age appeared from a doorway behind the bar. His gray hair was secured in a long ponytail and wrinkles lined his face, but the perpetual smile lines around his eyes showed his deep love of life. “Hey, Johnson. What brings you here?”

  “Can’t I visit an old friend?” He took another swig of soda. “It’s great to see you, Dennis. I’ve been meaning to come by, but I’ve been focused on things at the ranch. In all seriousness, I need my sponsor. I feel off the wagon and blew it with a woman because of it.” He closed his eyes then felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Two steps forward and one step back. What happened?”

  Johnson opened his eyes and smiled weakly. He focused on the glass in front of him, watching the condensation drip down the side. “Jake’s wedding triggered my need, craving.”

  “What about the wedding prompted your lapse?”

  “You remember my wife? Her affair started my drinking. Now Jake’s wedding…it’ll change things.” Johnson hated that his voice hitched as he spoke about his failure.

  “Do you remember what we talked about at the AA meetings? This disease doesn’t go away. We’ll always fight it. We can arrest it but not ‘cure’ it. Your slip is a result of the emotions around the wedding and your ex-wife. You did the right thing, talking to me. We can’t do it alone.”

  Johnson looked Dennis in the eyes. “I get that, but while drinking, I met someone.”

  “And?” Dennis’s eyebrow lifted.

  “You know Debra Donahue? Well, we got drunk. Stinkin’ drunk, and things got really hot between us. Sizzlin’ like a steak on a grill. When she realized we’d gotten drunk, she basically slammed the door in my face.”

  “Ouch. I’d heard about her husband. I understand your dilemma. Have you talked to her about your recovery?”

  “I didn’t get a chance.”

  “Sounds like you need to make one. Prove to her you’re more than the alcohol.” Dennis grabbed the glass. “Let’s refill your drink, and you can tell me more about the ranch
. Is Jake still hoping to work with Alzheimer’s patients?”

  Johnson smiled. “The horse, Cherokee, has been very effective.” He held out his hand. Dennis shook it. “Thanks, buddy. I’m glad I stopped in today.”

  “That’s what sponsors do. We listen.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Debra stared at the flowers on her desk. Three days in a row. First sunny daffodils then pretty pink carnations, but today’s flowers took the cake—fragrant, deep-red roses. These flowers had arrived this morning along with a new cell phone and note.

  Debra,

  I’m sorry about the loss of your cellphone. Give me a second chance.

  Your Heartbroken Cowboy

  She wished she remembered more of that night. The snippets flowing through her memories were fuzzy but filled her with longing. It’d been so long since she’d wanted a man like she did Johnson O’Neill. If only liquor hadn’t been a part of it. If only…if only…. I hate those if onlys. Quit thinking about him, she admonished as her stomach grumbled. No wonder. I’ve been working all day without a break. I’ll drop by the café for a sandwich. And maybe…a little desert. She grabbed her purse, turned the open sign around, and locked the office.

  The air smelled like spring with an echo of rain and the lilacs from the bushes near her office. Drawing her coat closer around her body, she headed the two blocks to the café. The walk counts as exercise so I can justify the treat. She smiled and thought about the menu. What was she interested in today? The short trip energized her.

  Debra smiled at the bright-yellow door of Café French. She recalled the first day she’d strolled inside that very door with Angela at her side. Had it only been two years? A soft bell rang as she shoved the door open. The smell of chocolate, coffee, and fresh-baked bread filled her nostrils, causing her stomach to rumble again, loudly.